


Existential Blues

by TerrifiedAristocrat



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, making out cures everything though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrifiedAristocrat/pseuds/TerrifiedAristocrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcanon: Carlos really doesn't like it when Cecil has an existential crisis on the radio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Existential Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Actually this is just an excuse to write a kissing scene sorry.

In the waning hours of the evening Cecil was almost lulled by its quiet calm even as he prepared to leave for home from work. He bid Khoshekh goodnight, paused momentarily before the Intern Memorial Board to remember all those brave souls who lost their lives in the line of duty and fumbled for his keys to lock the place up. He was almost out the door when Carlos opened the door before him, a very serious look on his face. Cecil was about to greet him, possibly fluster but the scientist pinned him against a wall and kissed him harshly before he could talk. It wasn’t one of the soft, gentle ones they’d passed to each other on previous dates no- this one was fierce and hungry and hot, hotter than the sun or the stars or the city council on a bad day and Cecil’s brain let out a few tentative burps almost like a thought, and then shorted out. The rest of him worked perfectly fine- hands were at 100% capacity to reach up and tangle themselves in the thick, glorious mane that adorned Carlos’ perfect head; face was tipped so that their noses didn’t bump that was good; his vocal cords were making funny buzzes that probably translated into whimpers or something along those lines, Cecil couldn’t hear them over the thumping of his heart and the rushing of his blood. 

"Carlos!" Cecil stammered out, pulling his head back just a bit.

"Hm?" Carlos replied, like a hum with a little jump in tone at the end. His mouth was close enough to Cecil’s that he felt the buzz of the sound through his lips.

"I-did something h-happen to garner such a g-greeting?" Cecil stumbled over his words because by the lights Carlos was RIGHT THERE and so close and Cecil could smell him, like chemicals and something spicy and it made his face burn and his thoughts swirl uncontrollably.

"You said you didn’t think you existed," Carlos replied seriously. It took Cecil a few moments to comprehend what he meant- he’d had a minor existential crisis on the radio several hours ago and had completely forgotten about it. But… that… that upset Carlos? It must have…

"O-oh that." Cecil chuckled nervously. "O-one of my interns brought me some coffee and negated that, don’t worry-"

"I’m not convinced," Carlos shook his head, kissing Cecil again, this time just under his jaw. Cecil let out a high pitched keen and tightened his grip on Carlos’ hair. "I’m real. You’re real. This is real. Understand?"

There was such fierceness in his words as they vibrated along Cecil’s neck, like a threat and a promise all rolled into the sweet, delicious package of Carlos’ voice. Cecil nodded helplessly, gulping. His throat felt hopelessly dry. 

"Do you need more convincing?" Carlos asked, in a softer tone this time. Cecil looked down at his scientist, who was watching him with intense, dark eyes.

"Perhaps… perhaps not here." Cecil whispered, amazed (and ashamed) that his own voice could sound so rough.

"Your place or mine." Carlos made the choice sound like something dire and dangerous.

"Mine." Cecil replied with only a tad more certainty.

Carlos nodded and pulled him out of the studio by his hand into the cooling desert night.


End file.
